RED SOX: You gotta believe, again!
THE MFA
by Phair
Ash was nervous as she waited on the platform of the bus station. The uniformed men seemed friendly enough but she was sure the older of the two was keeping an eye on her. She gave herself a quick once over for the hundredth time. New sneakers, jeans, crisp white short sleeved shirt; she judged herself to be presentable.
“Could it be the backpack?” she wondered to herself.
It was the beat up old hand me down bag she got from Ms. Pesco on the first day of freshman year. It still held together, straining at the seems, with a bit of duct tape support. It was dirty and scuffed and it smelled really bad. Ash saw it in the breaking morning light, not as a much used and cherished gift, but as the beat up remnant of her impoverished childhood.
The elderly security guard wandered by her with only a nod of the head and kind smile. She reached into her pocket for the comfort of her ticket. The paper gave her the right to stand right where she was. With that in hand, nobody could send her home. Or, so she hoped.
A screech of bearings broke the silent morning.
“And there it is,” announced the older man. “The 5:45 to Boston, a full fifteen minutes early. I bet Frannie did a bit of speeding.”
Ash could feel the sweat dripping down her back. It was from more than the simmering morning heat. She was sure somebody was going to stop her. Either the guards or the driver or…, she didn’t know who for sure. She had never left town on her own before. It wasn’t allowed. As a ward of the state, some important adult had to accompany her to all appointments and anytime she went out beyond town limits.
Ash felt like she was doing something wrong. She was going to Boston to see the art museum all by herself. Just because she wanted to. She was going because she was free to do so. It seemed so decadent that it had to be against some rule or other.
“Ticket, miss,” the old man interrupted Ash’s worries.
She pulled the sweat stained, crumpled paper from her pocket. With a heavy sigh, she handed it to the man.
“You gotta let me on the bus,” she got her argument ready in her head. “I paid. They took the money. I get to ride. End of discussion.”
“Boston? Beautiful city. First time?”
“Yes,” she was cautious.
“Hey Frannie, we got a first time Boston bound!” The old man called into the open bus door. “What are you going in for? School, theatre,…,”
“Culture, girl, tell that old fart you’re going for the seamy side of the CITY!” A very fat, very flamboyant black man emerged from the bus. “This is what you should do, girl. Go get breakfast at the Wharf Hotel. They got a brunch to cry over! Then skip to downtown for shopping…,”
“Don’t be stupid, Frannie!” The younger of the two guards interjected. “You want to do your shopping at Copley. They got Dior, Nine West, Neiman’s…,”
“And, what does a skinny, straight white man know about fashion?” Frannie exited the bus with his hands on his hips.
The skinny, straight guy pushed back his cap, “I’ve told you a million times, I AM NOT WHITE! I’m Puerto Rican. What about ‘Tomas Juan’ don’t you understand?”
“I’ll tell you what I don’t understand, little man. I don’t understand how you can even think shopping at Copley can compare with Downtown Crossing. You are too much the fool to think that.”
The older man chuckled as he punched Ash’s ticket. “See what I have to put up with every morning. So tell me, what’s on your agenda for the day.”
Ash blushed when all three men stared at her awaiting her reply. “I’m going to the museum.”
“Ooh the Gardener?” Frannie asked crossing his fingers.
Tomas shook his head no, “Not that flea bag! Go to the Museum of Science. See the Omni movie. It’s huge.”
“The Kennedy Museum, right?” The older guard asked with a wink.
“Ah, no.” Ash shifted from foot to foot, “Museum of Fine Art.”
“Excellent!” Frannie shouted and clapped happily.
“Cool, check out the Indian out front. It is drive you to your knees beautiful,” younger guard explained with a thrill in his voice.
The older guard handed Ash back her ticket, “Do you have paper and pen? I can give you directions from the bus station to the museum, if you like.”
“Got ‘em,” Ash smiled as she patted her musty old bag. “But, do you know any cheap places to eat…,”
“Have the Falafel at the roach coach on the corner of Forsyth and Huntington,” Tomas suggested.
Frannie tisked at the suggestion, “Don’t be a settler. Go to China Town. It’s a walk but that’s good for you. There’s a little place off Washington. You’ll see dead chickens hanging out front. They have their own market as well as the counter service. EGG DROP SOUP, it is dreamlicious!”
The old man chuckled, “Eat at the MFA. They have a cafeteria, café, and full service dining room. It’s a bit pricey in the dining room but you get a great meal.”
“Thanks,” Ash nodded as she followed Frannie onto the bus.
“Have a good time,” Tomas waved.
The old man checked his pocket watch before looking back up at Ash staring out the window, “See you tonight. Remember last bus leaves Boston at 6:45pm. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“You pulling a double, Patrick?’
“Yes.”
It was the last audible voice from the platform. Frannie got the bus in gear and rolling without any announcement.
“You put your head back, baby. I’m going to make terrific time with just you as a passenger. No screaming now, okay?”
“Okay,” Ash understood the man was having fun with her and that was okay.
He meant it in a nice way. All three were trying to be nice to her. None of the bus men were judgmental. They were just having fun with their job. Ash settled back in her seat and was quickly lulled to sleep by the bus engine’s steady hum.
Ash stood on the street corner. She was completely confused. After getting off the bus, she took a train. She wandered from the train station up Forsyth Street fairly sure she was close to the museum because she passed the Falafel place on the way. However, looking up and down the street gave her no clue to which direction the museum waited. Ancient stately buildings graced both sides of the street; up and down. Adding to her problem was the fact she was in the middle of a college campus. Everybody walking the streets belong there. Ash didn’t belong there. Ash didn’t belong anywhere.
“Excuse me, miss.”
“AH SHIT!” Ash flinched.
“I’m sorry but the tour has been postponed. I’m so glad I bumped into you before you went all the way to the quadrangle.” The young woman babbled on. “We won’t be meeting for tours until 3:30pm. That will give you a bit of time to explore the city on your own so it’s not a complete waste,” the woman grimaced as she glanced at her watch. “Well, five hours. But, you could go to Faneuil Hall. It has some of the best tastes of the city.”
“She thinks I’m a college kid,” Ash realized. “I want, I mean, is the Museum of Fine Art around here?”
“Oh, good choice. Just two blocks that way. I get lost in there for hours. You’ll hate to tear yourself away to come back for the tour,” the young woman confided. “But, if it’s your first visit in town then you should leave enough time get a sandwich and go eat it by the reflecting pool at the Christian Scientists. It’s down there near the Pru. There’s no better place to get the feel for the city. Then be back here by 3:30. The tour is an hour or so. After we’ll have questions/answers and food, of course. See you later,” the young woman waved goodbye as she moved on to another group of lost college kids and their parents.
Ash readjusted her backpack and moved in the direction pointed out. She was relieved when she finally saw the Indian Tomas talked about earlier this morning. The Indian was solemnly seated on his horse before the old part of the sprawling complex. Head tilted back, arms spread wide as if in submission to a higher power. Ash noted the pose also left the man open to any who should wish to explore or challenge his strength.
“You are very brave,” Ash whispered in reverence as she walked pasted the sculpture.
Approaching the cashier, Ash fumbled trying to retrieve the card from the zipper part of her backpack. Her fingers were sweaty even though the entryway of the museum was cool, almost as cold as the marble walls.
“May I help you,” an older woman asked from behind the counter.
Ash grasped her pass and announced, “I want to see it.”
“See what, miss?”
“Ah,” Ash realized her nerves made her demand louder than she intended, “I mean, I want to see the museum.”
“Member, student, or general admission.”
Ash smiled proudly as she pulled her card out, “I’m a member, ma’am.”
Ash sent away for a membership the night Ms. Pesco told her she would have to move out after graduation. She was so frightened at the prospect that she could not sleep. She started flipping pages in a magazine and saw an article about the MFA. Ash decided to defiantly and secretly purchase a membership. Instead of spending the night worrying about being alone, Ash planned the 220 mile trip until she feel asleep.
“And, here I am,” Ash marveled as she stared at her admission pin.
“You can check you bag in one of the lockers if you’d like, miss,” the cashier pointed out.
“Thank you, I would like that,” Ash replied with a grin. “And, you…you have a really nice day.”
Slightly stuttered but a good first try at being social. Ash was pleased Ms. Ng’s book was coming in handy.
Ash shifted her weighted down backpack into a more comfortable position once she stepped off the bus. It was nearly 8:30 pm. A giant yawn unexpectedly swamped her but it felt so good.
“Well, my young friend returns,” the older uniformed man greeted her. “How was Boston?”
Ash was reenergized by the question, “It’s so big. And old but a good kind of old. And I saw the museum but not all of it. There’s so much there. Oh, the Falafel was delicious. I never had anything like that. And, I ate it outside by the reflecting pool. There were so many people…,”
The older man laughed. “It sounds like you enjoyed yourself. And, it looks like you did some shopping too.”
Ash re-shouldered the backpack before answering. “Not shopping like we were talking about this morning. I got mistaken for a college kid and went on a tour. They had all these pamphlets and forms about financial aid and applying and…, I figured why not?”
The older man’s face lit up. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. A few seconds of searching produced a card.
“I’m a member of the Town Squares. We’re a civic group. We’re always on the lookout for local teens trying to get into college. There’s mentoring programs, scholarships…, things like that. You write to the address on that card and request the applications.”
Ash was stunned. She took the card and studied the embossed lettering. An unreasonable fear of losing the card overtook her and she quickly folded it into the small front pocket of her jeans.
“Thank you Mr. Paul. I’ll write them first thing in the morning.”
“Please, call me Patrick. Mr. Paul was my dad,” he chuckled at his own joke. “You know, there’s a cab waiting out front. I told the driver we would have a later return tonight.”
“Really,” Ash’s voice squeaked a bit. “That is so great. I’m too beat to walk home.”
“Tourism is not for wimps, my girl. Come on, let’s get you on your way tonight.”
“I’m already on my way,” Ash thought to herself as she followed the older man to her cab, “only tonight I think I finally know where I’m going.”
